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benefit you in the telling.”
    When
his gaze flew to Colin’s, the gleam of hope in Owein’s eyes was painful to
witness. Colin steeled himself against the surge of sympathy. Owein’s frequent
visitations had been a life-long nuisance. He didn’t care to be reminded that
the fairie king’s actions were born of desperation.
    “You
mean to help, then?” Owein questioned. “You’ll do your duty, accept the girl as
your mate, and break the curse?”
    “I’ll
break the curse. As to doing my duty, and my choice of mate, those are my
concerns.”
    “But
the girl—”
    “I
mean it, Owein,” Colin interrupted. “I’ll see the curse broken, but it’ll be
done my way. As for Keely and me, we’ll do what needs doing without your
interference. I want your word there will be no more popping in whenever you
like. If the time comes I decide your assistance is needed, I’ll invite you
myself. Until then, I won’t be looking over my shoulder to see if we’ve an
audience. It’s privacy you’ll be giving us or you’ll find yourself right back
where you’ve been for three hundred years—unable to break the curse on your
own.”
    Owein
looked about to make an argument, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.
    “Well,
then. Let’s go.” Colin headed for the door.
    “Where?”
Owein demanded, jumping to his feet to follow.
    “To
Dunhaven’s Door.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
Seven
     
    “If
it isn’t Morna’s pride and joy,” Sean Connelly called out the moment Keely
stepped inside Connelly’s Pub.
    She
grinned, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the windowless taproom
after the bright sunshine outside. The pub looked exactly as it had the last
time she’d been there, when she’d come in with Gran for “the best meal in the
county.” Several of the time-scarred, round tables held customers, lifting a
pint or savoring the day’s lunch special, while Irish rock played quietly in
the background.
    Behind
the bar, Sean beamed his crooked grin. The owner of the only pub in town had
been one of her favorite citizens that summer she’d spent with Gran. A mountain
of a man, Gran had claimed the only thing bigger than Sean’s heart were his
size fifteen feet.
    Blond,
brawny, and bold, he was a friend to just about everyone in Dunhaven, and had
taken pity on an odd, gawky teenager, who’d had her head in the clouds more
often than not. She’d loved him from the first time he’d struck up a
conversation with her, asking about the notebook of stories she’d carried with
her and then showing true interest in her shy answer.
    Sean
had been the one who called to offer the town’s condolences upon Morna’s death.
To her surprise, he’d then put Nora Murphy on the line to offer her regrets.
Keely had fumbled for words, mortified at what the Irishwoman must think of her
after what she’d witnessed the night in the gazebo.
    “None
of that, young lady,” Nora had said kindly. “If not for that night, I wouldn’t
have turned my eye on Sean, and we wouldn’t be planning our wedding for next
week. I wanted to thank you, personally.”
    Keely
hadn’t known what to say to that, and had laughed, hearing Sean’s muffled demand,
“What night?”
    “Never
you mind,” Nora had told him. “It’s a woman thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
    In
the decade since, Nora and Sean had kept her abreast of the goings on in
Dunhaven with frequent phone calls. She counted the big publican and his sultry,
redheaded wife among her few friends.
    Keely
crossed the worn wooden floor to take an open stool at the bar and received a
wink from Sean as he worked the tap, building a Guinness for the old-timer
three stools away. He set the glass in front of the man, moved down to reach
across the bar, and gave Keely’s hands a squeeze.
    “If
I’d known you’d be turning yourself into such a beauty, Keely O’Brian, I’d have
done a better job of fighting off the likes of Nora Murphy and waited for